Angel of Mercy
by Splinter Cell
Summary: A new doctor helps Carter and I don't know what to say here so you'll have to read it won't you!


Kerry pushed past a woman to get to John at the desk ****

Angel of Mercy-The Book of Healing

Disclaimer: I do solemnly swear that none of the characters in this fic belong to me apart from Dr. Connie Hunton who came to me in a lightning flash of inspiration and thus left me slightly singed…So nobody sue me please-I'm broke at the moment. 

Archive: If you want to, I ain't gonna stop you but tell me where. 

Contact me: [vada@time-warp.co.uk][1]

Spoilers: None really but there are references to the sixth season.

Notes: I added Connie because I wanted to add a person who would help heal Carter and I'm hoping to do a little mini series with her in it. However, I'd love your comments about this and any other ideas. Now I didn't add chapters because each section is too short to be a chapter in my view. And yes…I know, it's long, bear with me on it!

Feedback: Wanted, positive or negative (as long as it is constructive-this is my first story remember). 

Doctor Connie Hunton winced as her head hit the window again. It was her fault, she'd been leaning against it and the bus had hit a bump. The bus was slowing down anyway as it approached her stop so she gathered her bags together in preparation to getting off. Once she got off, she had approximately a twenty-minute walk to get to County General. She could have been dropped off right outside by a taxi but she wanted time to think and anyway, it was a gorgeous day-sunny and warm with a slight summer breeze. 

From where she stood on the sidewalk, she could even see Mercy's roof if she strained her head to one side. She shook her head ruefully as she took off towards County. She supposed she was a bit nervous, she'd never met any of these doctors: what if they didn't like her? Or her methods? What if they found out? She glanced both ways before crossing the road, pausing momentarily to shift her bag on to her other shoulder. 

She was halfway across when the van's driver lost control and the vehicle came swerving across the road into her. She barely had time to raise her free arm to protect her head-a reflexive if pointless action-before the van slammed into her. 

~~~

Doctor John Carter stripped off his bloodied clothes and watched as the gurney was wheeled out of Trauma 1 and up to Intensive Care. It had taken three exhausting, fear-riddled hours to stabilise the woman and she'd crashed twice. Even now, with her in Intensive Care, Carter knew that the convalescence would be long and difficult; God only knew how long it could take her shattered bones in her leg and arm to knit together again. 

Dr. Weaver came up to him as he was heading to the men's room.

'Good job Carter, you handled yourself well in there.'

John looked down at her and smiled tiredly. 'Thanks, I appreciate it.' Seeing her making her way down the hall, her suddenly caught up with her again. 'Um, Doctor Weaver? Could I handle her recovery?'

She looked at him, a question in her eyes but she said nothing, merely said yes and then turned around to yell at Malucci.

As he began to wash his hands, he was suddenly glad that Weaver hadn't asked him why he was interested in this particular patient-he didn't have an answer to that question himself. What was it about the tall, pretty brunette who had nearly died when a van smashed into her? Why had he felt a sudden connection with her unconscious, blood-covered form when he'd first laid eyes on her? And above all, why did he suddenly want to get to know her better? 

Shaking his head in bemusement, he headed out to Admit; he still had four hours of his shift left and there were plenty of patients to see. 

~~~

She stretched out her arm as far as it would go, fingers splayed, muscles aching at the effort until she thought the tube in her arm would snap under the tension. Beads of perspiration ran down her nose, tasted salty on her lips. She swore and relaxed her arm, resting it by her side once more and slumped back onto the pillow to look at the grey ceiling that she had, of late, begun to call friend. It listened to her (unlike those God-awful nurses), it understood her need for water and it most definitely did not put the bitterly fought for glass on her bedside table where she couldn't get at it! She closed her eyes and let out a small sigh; oh what she wouldn't give to be back at Mercy! Civilised Mercy where she could chew out a nurse or two and get into only comparatively little trouble because of it. Thinking of Mercy brought Mike to mind and thinking of Mike always made her smile. 

'Glad to see you smiling for a change!' The voice viciously derailed her thoughts and her eyes snapped open. She knew the voice though; Dr. John Carter. He was nice, reminded her of Mike a bit-the dark compassionate eyes and intense stare mainly but also in his subtle, understated power. 

She gave him a defeated look before answering, 'Still would be if you hadn't sneaked up on me.'

'I'm sorry, I thought you'd heard the door.' He moved to her side and began to unpack the syringe. 

'Not another shot surely? I had one last night.' 

The nurses told me you were complaining of shooting pains in your leg. Ergo, you need a shot.'

She gave him her arm reluctantly and felt the tiny pin prick of the needle. It was true, she had been complaining about the pain and the Morphine worked. She just hated to have stay in bed. 

She looked at him curiously, 'Why aren't the nurses doing it?'

'You know damn well why.' He paused to look down at her. 'They've been scared of you since you threw that tantrum about the water.'

'Tantrum?!' She asked him incredulously, 'I'm dying of thirst in here and that amoeba brained woman put the glass where I couldn't get at it.' She saw him open his mouth to say something and cut in, 'It was only a pillow and it didn't even hit her-I can't even move my arm properly because of this damn thing!' She gestured irritably to the plaster cast encircling her upper arm. 

Carter chuckled softly and handing her the glass of water, sat down on the chair beside her bed. 'Are you sure you're a doctor?'

She eyed him laconically, 'Last time I thought about it, yeah.' She saw where he was going with it and laughed outright. 'Yeah, I know, I'm being a pain but we Huntons don't do bed rest well. We want to be up and out there, doing things. Not laid up in a hospital bed with a shattered arm, shattered leg and messed up insides.' She sipped the now warm water and they sat like that for a few minutes. 

Carter broke the companionable silence first. 'Doctor Weaver found the letter regarding your transfer this morning and she's contacted Mercy to apprise them of your situation; a Doctor Kincaid is coming over as soon as his shift ends tonight.'

She nodded and smiled at him groggily, the Morphine taking over. As he looked at her one more time before checking the machines around her, he was suddenly struck by how vulnerable she looked-more so now than when he had first set eyes on her in the ER. Bruises coloured her face and body; the sutured cuts stood out on pale skin pulled taut over her bones. It didn't help that machines monitoring her vital signs surrounded her or that she had tubing supplying her with blood and other desperately needed nutrients. She was actually in a better shape than she looked- the van had smashed five of her ribs, her leg and her arm and that she'd suffered massive internal bleeding but after only three days, the recovery she'd made was excellent.

As he was just finishing, the beeping behind him suddenly became one continuous sound and Carter was suddenly at her bedside again, shouting for help as he began chest compressions, all the while wondering why she'd just suddenly crash when a few moments earlier she'd been fine.

~~~

Kerry watched as the man started pacing again, back and forth down the corridor outside Trauma 1, all the while casting frantic looks through the glass where Carter and Jing-Mei were working on stabilising the Mercy doctor. 

Just as Kerry was going to try and get him to sit down again, Doctor Chen walked up to him.

'She stable now, Doctor Kincaid, you can see her now but she's not fully awake' 

'That's fine!' The man all but sprinted into the room and made a beeline to where she lay. As Carter and Chen backed off a bit to allow them a little privacy, he stopped dead, staring at the woman and tears pricked his eyes.

Connie opened her eyes slowly and smiled wanly as she saw who was standing by her.

'Hi Mike. Fancy seeing you here,' she whispered.

'My God Connie, what happened to you?'

She coughed slightly and winced with the pain that caused. 'Oh, nothing much-got run over by a van. No big deal.'

He laughed and stroked a stray hair back from her face. 'Glad you still have your sense of humour; we've all been worried sick about you.'

'No need, I'm in good hands here. How's Mercy?'

He shrugged off-handily. 'Not the same without you. No it's true!' He said at the sceptical look on her face. 'Ewan's cutting up like hell and Phil's raging around about how he's never going to be able to fill the gap you left and how Admin has really screwed up royally this time and we miss you Connie, we all miss you.'

She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. 'You're crying!' She accused him. 'I'll be fine. Honestly.' She sighed good-naturedly. 'Mike, your acting like I'm on my last legs.' 

'Yeah well, I don't like to see my favourite doctor laid up like this.' He cursed as his pager went off and turning back to her smiled ruefully. 'Sorry Hunton, gotta go-MVA coming in-ten minutes.' He bent down and kissed her cheek. 'Get well soon girl, Doctor's orders.' 

As he passed the two County Doctors, she heard him tell them to keep an eye on her and then he was gone. Alone for a minute, the tears welled up in her eyes; her last connection with Mercy was gone and she might not ever see him again. The tears coursed down her face uncontrollably and her body was suddenly wracked with silent sobs. 

~~~

'Hi. I'm Jo. Welcome to Curtain Area Three.'

Connie looked up at the voice and glanced to her left quizzically. The big, dark skinned guy next to her seemed to be waiting for an answer. 

Going a little red, she smiled back and apologised. 'Sorry, I didn't catch what you said.'

'No worry, I'm Jo and this, 'he said, with a wide arm gesture. 'Is Curtain Area Three.'

'You don't say!' She extended her arm and they shook hands. 'Doctor Constance Hunton. Connie for short.'

'A doctor? Why are you here?'

'Got run over. I was in Intensive Care but John said that he'd be happier with me here, especially when I went into v-fib for no particular reason. Dr. Weaver agreed and so here I am.'

He nodded. 'Pretty bad. Me, I got beaten up one day on my way back to the hospice.'

'Hospice? Then you have…'

'A terminal disease. Yeah, Lung Cancer.' He saw her start to say something and cut her short. 'No don't worry doc, I'm ok with it-I've had forty-three good, happy years on this Earth, I'm looking forward to a break; God knows I've earned it!'

They laughed and Connie decided to change the subject. 

'So how long have you been here?'

'About three weeks. Doctor Benton says I can be discharged in another couple of weeks although Doctor Corday isn't so sure…' He trailed off as he noticed the glassy look in her eyes. 'How long have you been here?'

'Five days.'

He nodded knowingly, 'And you don't know anyone.' He humphed and then pointed to a tall, dark haired doctor standing by the admin desk.

'You see him? That's Doctor Luka Kovac.' He lowered his voice dramatically. 'He comes from Croatia.' 

Connie laughed. 'What's wrong with that?'

'Something happened to his family. He doesn't speak about it though. Oh and you see him?'

She strained to see where he was pointing. 'The little bald guy?'

'Yeah. That's Doctor Romano-Chief of Staff. No one likes him.' 

At that moment, a small, red-haired woman with a crutch came up to her bedside and handed Connie a small, blue shoulder bag and then hobbled off again. Connie gazed after her with some confusion then shrugged and opened the bag eagerly. She'd never thought to see the bag again after her accident and she hoped that nothing was broken. She brought out the large medical journal she'd been hoping to study later that day and placed it on the bed beside her. She found her sunglasses and tutted with annoyance when she noticed that one of the lenses was cracked. She located the special silver pen that Mike had given her for Christmas and finally, from the inner pocket, she withdrew a long, thin carefully wrapped package. Aware of Jo's bemused eyes on her, she unwrapped the object and then punched the air in jubilation when she ascertained that it was undamaged.

'What is it?' 

She was about to answer him when she noticed that some of the people nearby were watching her in interest so she stared at them intently until they turned away in embarrassment.

She handed over the thin object and Jo found to his surprise that it was a thermometer. It was mage of glass, had red liquid in the centre and was, at that moment, reading thirty-five degrees Celsius. There was nothing special about it…until he looked closer. In the middle were a lot of jagged, fine lines. He ran his finger over the surface but it completely smooth. At a loss, he handed it back to her.

'I don't get it; it's a thermometer. 

She chuckled and began to wrap it up again. 

'When I was an intern at Mercy, I was deathly afraid of breaking anything, or doing anything wrong. The first patient I was given had a very bad case of the flu. I had to take his temperature. Well, he didn't like it and started shouting at me and in panic, I dropped the thermometer I was holding and it snapped in two at the middle. I went to pieces, literally. I felt so guilty and I honestly believed that they would send me packing. So I scooped up every last fragment of glass, put them into a small bag, making sure the liquid didn't leak out and that night, after my shift had finished, I stayed at the hospital. And armed with a pair of tweezers and some non-toxic super-glue, I spent the rest of that night putting the shards of glass back together again. The next morning, I went, exhausted and bleary-eyed to the Chief of Staff, and presented him with the now repaired thermometer.' She smiled softly at the memory. 'They never let me forget it either.'

Jo nodded understandingly. 'It has sentimental value.' 

'Yeah. Either there's a god of thermometers or that was amazing glue because I've dropped it multiple times since then and it has never broken. Plus I don't think I'd have the eyes or the patience to put it back together again a second time!'

~~~

John Truman Carter the third was having a bad day. As he entered the lounge, he saw the stack of charts that he still had to review and upgraded the 'bad' to 'hell of a'. 

He'd lost two patients already and another trauma was expected in about ten minutes. Kovac had decided to pick a non-existent bone and he'd been hard pushed not to thump the Croatian. 

He picked up the pad of plain paper and pencils that Connie had for asked earlier that day and made his way to Curtain Area Three to find her bent over studying something on her lap. 

'What do you think you're doing?!'

She looked up guiltily and flushing, she tried to hide the chart she'd been poring over. Carter stalked up to her and snatching the offending chart from her hands, waved it angrily in her face. 

'And how exactly did you get this?'

Connie thought rapidly, 'I got one of the nurses to give it to me.'

He glared at her and informed her icily that none of the nurses would have given it to her had she asked them.

'One of the patients gave it to me as they passed?' she tried, looking up at him with such a nervous look on her face that it nearly melted his anger. 

He stared at her for a few minutes until she began to fidget uncomfortably under his intense gaze and then stated in no uncertain terms that she was not cleared to walk for another week at least. And, that due to her disobedience, she had now forfeited the right to have the paper and pencils she had asked for and that she was lucky that he hadn't ordered her to be put under restraint. 

As he watched the handsome young doctor walk away, Jo looked over at his red-faced neighbour and saw that she was intently watched the retreating doctor. 

'Well, that told you huh?'

'Yeah, it did.'

He looked at her carefully. 'You were making sheeps' eyes at him.' He accused her.

She whipped her head around to look at him sharply. 'The hell I was!' She denied hotly. 

'I saw you girl. You can't deny it.'

She glared at him and then turned away. Nothing she could say would convince Jo that she did not fancy John Carter. Rummaging around inside her bag, she produced the can of Cola she'd got from one of the machines and took a large gulp.

~~~

Rubbing the nose out again, Connie looked up and studied her model for a second or two and then tried again. It was, she reflected, pretty good. 

Jo had given her a brilliant idea and once she'd managed to persuade a nurse to fetch the paper and pencils John had denied her, she'd set to work sketching the doctors and nurses in the ER and then had got Jo to name them for her. Since she had only had a second or two glimpses of some of the doctors, a few of her sketches were little more than line drawings. 

Her current picture was of a young woman, probably in her early twenties, who was sitting in one of the chairs looking out of the window with her chin in her hand. What had prompted Connie to choose her was the way that she seemed to be separate to the crowd of people milling around nearby. 

The picture was nearly finished; she only had to touch up the lines and shadows and it was probably the best that she'd done. 

'I didn't think you drew.'

She looked up and smiled ruefully as John came and sat on the edge of the bed, picking up the other pictures at the same time. 

'Stress release really, I'd never consider taking it up seriously.'

He selected another picture, and studying it held it out to her, 'They're really good. Especially this one.'

The drawing he was referring to be that of an old man, who had been helped into the ER by his young grandson. The incongruous pair were now immortalised on paper and even Connie, at her most critical had to agree that she had done a good job on it.

She handed him her latest drawing and asked him what he thought of it. John simply stared at it speechless-it was Lucy. Everything about it from the way her hair fell around her face to her delicate features.

Connie looked at him in confusion. 'John what is it? What's wrong?'

He looked at her and Connie almost jerked backwards at the look on his face. 'How did you do this? How do you know about Lucy?' He asked her softly.

Scared now, she replied defensively, 'It's just a sketch of a girl John.' She pointed across the room. 'She was sitting over there.' Very concerned now, she watched warily as the young doctor traced the lines of the picture, all the while muttering the name Lucy over and over. 

She'd treated bipolar patients, patients with multiple personalities, schizophrenia and other metal disorders but Carter was way worse than any of them had been. 

'What happened to you John?' She pointed to the sketch. 'What's so important about her that it has this affect on you?' 

He stared at her with blank, listless eyes and then suddenly dropped the picture and sprang to his feet like a startled animal, forcing her to look up to him. 

'You could never understand what happened to me. You'll never know how much she meant to me or what her loss did to me!' 

Connie watched as he walked away and breathed slowly, closing her eyes. The entire episode had terrified her frankly; to see the normally calm, cool and controlled John Carter break down in front of her had overwhelmed her. However, one word stood out to her- 'loss'. Berating herself for being such a blind fool, she brought a picked up a blank sheet of paper and blocking out the noise of the ER, she haltingly began to write, and the minutes and the hours passed by. 

~~~

Carter was just packing up to go home when Chuni came running up to him and breathlessly handed him the large A4 brown envelope, curious, he sat down in the lounge and opened it and drew out two pieces of paper. He recognised one instantly; it was the picture that Connie had showed him earlier and that had reminded him so much of Lucy. Now as he looked at it, he noticed that Connie had finished it and added a thick grey border. 

Laying it aside, he picked up the other piece of paper and realised it was a letter addressed to him.

Dear Dr. Carter,

I'm very sorry about earlier-I shouldn't have pressed you about Lucy when it's obviously something you don't feel you can talk to me about. I just want you to know that you can talk to me any time you like and about anything you like. Sometimes, it's easier to talk to a stranger. I know that seems odd, but a stranger doesn't know you, won't judge you and in the end, you may never see them again. I am a stranger to you, even if I do end up working here. I've never met you before now, never spoken about you or heard of you. I want you to know that I feel that I can speak to you and I want you to be able to do the same. To be able to tell me about your worries, your hopes, your memories. You don't have to tell me; you can tell me to mind my own business if you like but I want you to know that I am here for you and I always will be, for as long as we know each other. 

As for the picture, I finished it off and if you want it, it's yours. If you want it to remind you of her, it's yours. If you don't, throw it out, I probably would have anyway and it won't make me angry or cross or anything if you feel that to keep it would open barely healed wounds. 

One again, please accept my profound apologies-we Huntons are not necessarily known for our perception or tact and I know I'm no exception to that rule. 

Yours,

Connie.

Reading to the end of the letter, Carter felt a lump form in his throat. He could talk to her and she'd listen, about all the guilt and the pain and the shame he felt. Re-reading the letter, he nearly laughed with joy, she was an angel, an angel sent from Heaven to help him, to heal him. 

He picked up the picture and smiled as memories of Lucy came flooding back and he remembered how they'd laughed and talked and the happy times they shared and the love between them and he silently thanked her. He thanked her for bringing him into contact with Connie; the enigmatic Mercy doctor who had sensed the pain and the need to talk and was willing to hear about it, all of it. 

Happy as he'd not been for a long time since Lucy's death, he nearly ran back into the ER and headed over to Curtain Area Three and saw her look up from the book she'd been reading, and shut it and smile, almost as if she understood what he was going through. 

So what did you think? Love to hear your comments so don't keep them to yourself!

   [1]: mailto:vada@time-warp.co.uk



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